Black Against Blue
by Poisoned Scarlet
Summary: He was her inspiration just as the pit-pattering of the rain against the window-pane was his.


**Black Against Blue  
by. **_Poisoned Scarlet_

**Summary: **He was her inspiration just as the pit-pattering of the rain against the window-pane was his.  
**Rating: **K+ for minor language.  
**Genre: **General.  
**Pairing: **Maka/Soul.  
**Authors Note: **I have a painting class at school that I spend more than three-quarters of the time whining about how I have no talent and how my teacher should just give me a pencil, paper, and a theme, so I could write. And when she did, I came up with this and ended up painting half of my Mandala in exchange. Equivalent exchange, I told her lol.  
**Story Notes: **_N/A._

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Soul Eater.

* * *

"Not right..." Maka sighed, crumpling the paper and tossing it into the trashcan. She resumed her sketching, trying to bring alive the picture she had clearly detailed in her mind. She knew that if she didn't get it right now, she would forever lose that image, and it was too much of a beautiful image to let go of without a fight. "Damn it! Still not right!" She crumpled up another sheet and sighed, standing up to stretch a little.

She had been trying to get the sketch right for _hours_ but there was always something _missing_...

A vital part that she couldn't think of in that moment.

"Hey, Maka?" Soul called from the couch, when she walked past him. "We're out of orange juice and milk."

"We are?" Maka frowned. "But I just bought some a few days ago..."

"Blair said she was going on some trip with her friends so she took the gallon of milk with her and I finished the orange juice... an hour ago."

Maka glared in his direction, his sheepish grin dissolving her ire instantly. She sighed instead. "You're such a pig. Well, I guess I'll go buy some later... hey, what time is it?"

"Five." Soul answered, changing the channel. "You need a ride?" He offered, knowing she was contemplating grocery shopping.

Maka shook her head, distractedly. Perhaps a nice walk to the grocery store would shake off her frustration and allow her to draw the image that was still burning bright in her head. "Nah, I'll walk, thanks. I'll be back in half an hour!"

"Alright. Cool."

Maka walked over to the door and took her coat from the hanger, patting the pockets and taking out her wallet. She had enough to buy a few other things as well. With that in mind, she left the apartment, jamming her hands in her coats pockets reminiscent to how Soul would jam his own into his leather jacket.

Some of his habits had finally rubbed off on her.

She only wished some of _her_ habits rubbed off on him – she was hoping for her habit to study and read but with Soul, she doubted it would ever happen.

The walk to the grocery store and back hadn't cleared up her mental block after all – it had, in fact, only intensified it. Maka ended up feeling more stressed and overworked than how she left. Perhaps if Soul had given her a ride, the smear of colors would have sparked that inspiration she was longing for...

"Soul, I'm back!" Maka called into the house, shrugging off her coat. She tossed it on the coat hanger and walked into the living room, where she saw Soul had fallen asleep on the couch again. His head was tilted away from hers, a few of his messy bangs shadowing his crimson eyes; his lips slightly parted as he breathed...

The sight, however, relieved her block.

A slow grin spread across her face and Maka dropped the grocery bags on the floor in favour of her sketchbook, which she excitedly flipped open and began to sketch in the instant she arrived in her room. The image seemed to flow from the pencil and onto the paper, the longer time ticked by, and by the time she finished the sketch, after many erases and groans and frustrated sighs, she knew the art teacher at Shibusen would adore the work.

"Finished." Maka whispered proudly, gazing at her sketch. The shading was rushed but from afar it looked fine. The shine from the light that leaked off the paper against the grand piano was fully drawn not messily sketched, as well as the man who stood by it, a finger running along the top of the fallboard while his other rested inside the pocket of his black slacks. Swirls of black, tendrils of the darkness that loomed inside the pianists heart, unfurled from the ground surrounding the grand instrument. The spiked back hair, the slight tilt of his head that revealed a wide, sharp-toothed, grin; only someone as dense as Black Star wouldn't be able to tell who she had drawn to go along with the piano.

Maka picked up the canvas her teacher had given her previously and set up her palette and paint brush. She placed the canvas on her desk and stood up, hovering her pencil over the white board. Her eyes flashed back to the drawing.

It would be risky, to draw something that could very well be personal to Soul, _but_...

_I'll ask for permission later. _Maka decided, taking a long look at her draft. _And if he says no...then... _She could always use one of her other, much more duller, drawings but the disappointment would remain. But Maka decided not to let that get to her; as long as he liked it, it wouldn't matter.

_I really hope he likes it..._

And she began to draw.

* * *

"Hey! Yo, Maka, wake up, it's Monday!" Soul pounded his fist on her bedroom door, his toothbrush hanging off the corner of his mouth. It was rare the times Maka overslept but she _had _seemed stressed yesterday – if, by the way she totally just abandoned the groceries on the floor in the living room, said anything – so he had set up his alarm clock just in case. "Maka...?"

He peeked inside, noticing the paint stains on the floor. In fact, she was _streaked_ with paint. Her cheek, her clothes, especially her hands. It was black and blue paint with smudges of white. A paint brush hung from her curled fingers, her cheek resting against her desk as she slumped forward, but the canvas was perfectly set aside to avoid getting it messed up.

_Oh, yeah, Maka had to do a painting for Sinclair's class. _Soul remembered, as Maka had excitedly told him so a while ago. Shibusen had acquired a new range of extra-curricular activities and while he and practically all their friends except Patty had chosen Music Appreciation, she and Patty had chosen Paint, and promptly got made fun of. It was mostly because the Paint teacher, Mr. Sinclair, was a little..._not straight._

_Gay. _Soul snickered, recalling the lisp in his words and exaggerated sway of his hips. _Geez, that guys such a clown._ He walked forward, deciding to take a look at her painting. He'd never seen her draw before; in fact, he never even _knew_ she had an interest in art even though she had briefly mentioned that she'd visited many art museums when she was a little girl...

_I bet she sucks at drawing. _Soul snickered at himself, shaking his head at his thoughts. Maka would smack him over the head with her books for being so pessimistic—!

The tooth brush clattered to the floor.

Soul stared at the painting, open-mouthed.

It was almost done.

There were a few white spots toward the top that needed to be stroked in with deep blue but the rest was nothing short of amazing. The grand piano that dominated most of the picture reminded him of the one kept inside the Black Room and this was only proven when he saw that _man_... tall and lean, with white spiked hair dressed down in an elegant pinstriped suit, facing away; his fingers gently brushing the fallboard of the piano. The grin on his face, slightly crazed, was reminiscent of his own mad grins when he allowed insanity to overpower him...

The sharp teeth were what really gave away the man's identity to him although Soul knew the suit and white hair should have hinted it.

There were swirls of black, deliberate and wispy, which mixed with dark royal blue, abounding him and the instrument. The colors were opposite of what his room was actually schemed in, which was red and black, but the deep blue mix merely gave the painting a haunting glow.

His eyes flashed to the checkered floor, to the shadowed outline of what appeared to be that annoying demon...his hands clawed and his head thrown back in a cackle...

Maka moaned, as she slowly awoke. She felt paint squish against her cheek and she shot up, grimacing when she realized she had fallen asleep on her _palette. _She must look like a real mess right now...

"Maka."

"Soul?" Maka started, surprised to find him standing beside her, staring at her desk intently. "What're you doing in my room—ah! We have school today! What time is it?" But her realization went unheeded: his eyes never left her desk.

"What are you...?" She glanced down to where he was staring and froze.

Her painting!

It wasn't finished yet!

"NO! DON'T LOOK!" Maka scrambled to snatch the canvas from his eyes. Although she knew it was futile, since he had no doubt been staring at it for who-knew-how-long, she hid it behind her and dropped her eyes. "You weren't supposed to see it yet! It wasn't done. I didn't manage to finish some details because I was too tired... "

"That painting..." Soul began, his eyes straying to the canvas she was hiding behind her back. "That's me, isn't it?"

Maka nodded hesitantly.

"And that shadow..."

"It's a manifestation of insanity." Maka quietly told him, bringing the painting out from behind her. She flipped it around, lifting it high so they could both see it. "The swirls of dark that surround you are the negative emotions that dwell inside of you, and the shadow against the floor by your feet is madness. What I didn't get to finish were the other swirls by the top." She ran her fingers over the top in an arch, showing that they would appear to cave into him. "Which would give the illusion that you were giving yourself to insanity... which is why you're grinning..."

Soul was silent.

Maka nervously placed the drawing on the desk. She twisted her fingers together, adding just as quiet: "I-I was going to submit this drawing in today but I wanted to show it to you first... I know it's a little personal but if you would let me—!"

"No."

Maka froze. She looked up, at his passionless eyes that continued to stare at the painting. "If you're going to submit this to the Shibusen Art Competition, my answer is no." He could almost envision the scene of the painting in his head: his hands would run across the fallboard, caressing it, before they lifted it and ran down the ivory keys. The shadows would convulse around him, twisting closer and closer, until the loud laugh of that little demon shattered the total silence and the shadows swallowed him up in their madness; caused that grin of pure discord to crack on his face... "You can submit it to Sinclair for a grade but don't submit it in the competition."

"Oh..." Maka reluctantly nodded. She guessed it really _had _hit too close to home... "Okay. Uh.." She swallowed up her hesitance and asked, meekly: "Do.. do you like it?"

He deliberated her question for a bit. Then, to her surprise, a crooked grin split his face. "Do I like it? This is probably the coolest painting I've ever seen. I didn't know you could draw this good, Maka..." He finally turned his eyes to her; the crimson eyes that glowed with admiration for her art. Maka felt her heart swell at the thought of him liking her work. "I guess you aren't a nerdy bookworm...you're a nerdy and _artsy _bookworm!"

"MAKA CHOP!"

"OW! I meant that in a _good_ way!" Soul snapped, eying the book in her hand warily. "Geez, so early in the morning, too..." He rubbed his head grumpily, his eyes unable to stop looking at the drawing. "When are you gonna' finish it?"

"Oh, later." Maka placed the book back in the drawer she had taken it out from, ignoring Soul's incredulous face when he noticed. "Definitely today, though. I don't want to rush it so I'll ask Mr. Sinclair for an extension."

"Didn't you have, like, a whole two weeks to finish it?" Soul asked, with a raised brow. It didn't sound like Maka to put off her work like this.

"Yeah, but I had no inspiration to work from." Maka answered simply. "I didn't want to use some of my other sketches. I wanted something... new." She smiled very fondly at the painting, an expression he had never seen before. "And I finally got inspiration yesterday, when I came home from the grocery store."

"The bags." He realized. "That's why you left them in the middle of the living room?"

"Ah, yeah, sorry about that." Maka grinned sheepishly. Soul rolled his eyes. "I just had to get it down on paper before I forgot it! If I hadn't, I would have lost it, and then I would have been so mad at myself! I hate it when that happens! I could never remember exactly what I wanted to draw when it does!" When she caught his amused expression, Maka mumbled with warm cheeks: "Why do I even bother? You'd never understand.."

"But I do." Soul smirked at her blink. "It's the same whenever I compose scores, y'know."

"Yeah, but you never let anyone hear them!" Maka argued.

"I let _you_ hear them, don't I?" He retorted.

"_Sometimes_." Maka stressed. "And I haven't heard you play the piano in nearly a whole year, Soul!"

Soul looked away, haughtily. "That's 'cause you don't _need _to, so why would I play it for you if you don't need to hear it? It's not like you'll get it, anyway."

"So what! I still like hearing you play the piano!"

"Tch, because you're too much of a musical idiot to understand the significance of my music." Soul replied loftily.

"I don't care about that!" Maka glared. "I like hearing your music and that's all that matters! So what if I can't understand it? I like it so I'll listen to it!" She huffed and crossed her arms, turning away from his wide eyes. "And at least I _let_ people appreciate my drawings! You're always so... so..." Maka's eyes lit up. She dug around her desk for her sketchbook and flipped it open to a new page, grabbing a pencil and automatically starting a new sketch.

Soul watched, in surprise, as a drawing came to life under the palm of her hand. He saw something that resembled a desk, a curved lamp... the drawing itself was a little distorted, disproportionate, but he had a feeling she meant for it to be that way—!

A devilish idea popped into his head and he leaned down, whispering: "Hey, Maka, we're late for school."

"...WHAT?" Maka whipped her head to the clock overhead, horrified that she had only ten minutes to shower and get dressed or else they would be tardy for school. "WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME SOONER, YOU IDIOT?"

"I _did_." Soul scoffed, stifling laughter at her reaction. Priceless. "But you were too busy ranting about how you wanted to listen to me play..."

Maka glared at his sly grin. "Just you watch, Soul Eater, I'LL GET YOU BACK LATER!"

"Yeah, yeah, hurry up before we're _really _late." Soul dismissed, to her chagrin. He was safe from any bodily harm until they got to school...

Maka cursed and stormed out of her room, slamming the door behind her and slamming the bathroom door open. When he heard the shower running, he glanced back down at her sketchbook. It was pretty thick, more than half-way full, and heavy, as he picked it up and browsed through the pages.

Most of the drawings were related to their friends.

Maka had an eye for detail, especially when she drew clothes or a scenery.

Tsubaki and Black Star, one smiling, the other grinning... Kid and the Thompson sisters in that ridiculous 'symmetrical' pose of theirs... Patty, laughing, under a bed of flowers... Professor Stein, smoking, a twisted grin on his face (he was impressed by how she managed to get the creepy glint of his glasses just right)... a scenery, what he guessed to be the laughing sun from how it could be viewed from the roof at Shibusen... and then, him?

Soul furrowed his brows as he skipped to the fifteenth... twentieth, twenty-sixth page? There were more sketches of him than there were of all their friends and teachers! Him standing, back turned to the viewer; him laughing from the side; a drawing of them in formal wear she must have copied from a picture they had taken when they were younger since he recognized it; him sleeping with his headphones on; his old scythe-mode; scythe in Witch Hunter, then Warlock Hunter, mode; his new, _Deathscythe, _mode...

Her first sketches were a little bad but he saw her progress over the pages, and he could happily say it was _good _and _noteworthy _progress.

He spent all these years not knowing she had a talent for drawing?

His smile faltered.

What kind of a partner was he?

He prided himself in being able to say that he knew just about everything there was to know about Maka Albarn. It wasn't difficult to, especially since they lived together and soul resonated on a regular basis, but there were very few things that escaped him...

He was shocked something _this big _managed to escape him.

He guessed all those times she locked herself up in her room _wasn't _just to read; she drew, and she drew _very well_...

"Hey, Maka?" Soul asked, once Maka had finished her shower and dressed up.

"What?" Maka snapped, slipping on her tie. "What is it, Soul? We're going to be so late if we don't leave right now!" Her attendance was flawless – she wasn't going to ruin it by being tardy!

"When we come back from school..." Soul began, slinging his bag over his shoulder calmly. "I'll play for you."

Maka stopped adjusting her tie.

She looked up and was surprised to find him facing her. She expected him to have his back toward her, as he usually did whenever they spoke seriously, but this time his front was _to _her. The sight was enough to inspire her but... she had never drawn his full face before; from the side, from behind, perhaps tilted, but _never_ full...

"I'll play for you but in exchange, you draw me again." He grinned at her candid look. "Admit it: I look even cooler on paper!" He winked.

Maka just rolled her eyes, motioning him outside with her hand. "Whatever you say, Soul. Now, c'mon, before we're late!" She jogged out, heading downstairs to where his motorcycle was parked.

He gave her room one last glance.

Perhaps this year, for her birthday, he wouldn't get her a book but rather a stand so she didn't have to hunch over while she worked on her masterpieces...

"SOUL!" Maka shrieked from down the stairwell. "HURRY UP AND LET'S _GO!_"

...If he managed to _live_ that long, that is, he dryly thought, hurrying downstairs before she went berserk and assaulted him with her new set of encyclopedias or something.

* * *

**A/N: **I mean no disrespect by the unsightly description of homosexuals I wrote up there. I can happily say I'm friends with two of them and they're better listeners than my female friends XD For those of you that have read _Breakin' Me Down_, I know I said I'd post up my new SoMa collection but until I finish another story of mine, _Wanderlust_, I won't be doing that. I'm on my last chapter, past the half-way mark, so I want to get that done and over with! Once I do, I'll post up the first chapter of that new collection (it's little more than half-way done as of right now so no worries).

Review! They make me happy :D

_Scarlett._


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